


Coffee Shop AU

by your_world_will_crack



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, barista Morty, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_world_will_crack/pseuds/your_world_will_crack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what the title says. I wrote this while I had a concussion at one AM so uh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Shop AU

Morty stood behind the counter, drumming his fingers absent-mindedly. It was two in the afternoon, a time he had quickly gotten used to being a slump at the coffee shop. Only himself and Jessica were working and no customers sat around sipping coffee. The only sound was the him of the air conditioner and the quite radio pouring from the speakers. 

He pulled at his apron and leant against the counter, counting the minutes by. Time rolled by in a fog and it felt like an hour had gone by in the last few minutes. Despite his haze he didn't miss the tell-tale sound of the door chime. 

"Welcome," he greeted on instinct. The patron was a man with tired eyes and physics-defying blue hair. He wore a pale blue sweater, some plain slacks, and a crisp lab coat. Morty wasn't sure if he was looking at a doctor or a man with a strange fashion sense. 

Regardless, the man intrigued him. 

"What can I get for you, sir?" He spoke, eyes never leaving the customer. 

"Hmm, w–wh–what do you recommend? I–I need something that pairs with brandy reaaaally–URP–well." 

"Uhh..?" 

The man waved his hand, "F–Forget it. Just gimme uh, fffrr–cappuccino? . . Express... shot a–" he punched the bridge of his nose, "I–I–I don't know the difference between any of these fuckin things, just give me something that'll really wake me up. I'm talking like a punch in the face of coffee." 

Morty nodded. He punched in an order for an Americano and felt a pair of eyes on him. Morty raised his own eyes up after hitting 'print receipt' and managed to trap himself under the man's unreadable gaze. 

It was awkward and Morty knew he shouldn't fret but the man was intense and his eyes were like the sharpest steele and they pinned him there. 

His brain scrambled, "Y–Y–Your total is fo-four fifty." He was handed five bucks, made change, then set about making the coffee. 

He watched the man walk over to the large whiteboard across the room that held a daily question for the patrons to answer while they waited for their coffee. Today's question was "What is your favorite band?" The man picked up a marker and wrote beneath all the repeated Queens and Pink Floyd's, "The Flesh Curtains". 

The air conditioner ruffled the man's lab coat and sent his rustic scent straight to Morty's head. He was hit with such a rush of metal, alcohol, and spice he got momentarily dizzy. He also wondered what kind of name a man like this would have. 

"W–What's your name?" Morty asked and quickly defended himself, "I–I need it for your order." The man looked at him, then around the room, then back at him. 

"I'm the only one here, kiddo." 

Heat shot to Morty's face and he sputtered and fixed his mind back on the cold mechanical coffee grinder. He poured the finely powdered beans into the machine and waited for the bubbler to roast the perfect amount of rich, black coffee. 

The machine dinged and Morty carefully poured the piping hot coffee into a large cup. He fixed it with a top and slid a sleeve over it. 

His fingers brushed the other man's as he handed him his coffee and Morty mentally kicked himself for once again getting ensnared by those eyes. 

He couldn't tell what thoughts lay beneath the surface. Was he about to break his neck for invading his personal space with his gross teenager hands? Was he going to complain about the coffee without even drinking it? Was he gonna whip out a sword and steal all the creamer? At this point anything was possible to Morty's short-circuiting mind. 

"My name's Rick," he took a sip from his coffee and as Morty saw his tongue peak out and lick his lips, everything went blank. 

Processing. . .

Processing. . . 

Processing. . . 

Hand.. Head.. A voice... 

"–you okay, kiddo? Uhm, M-Morty? Hey!" 

"Wh–What? Oh, jeez, s-sorry." Morty jumped back from the hand poking around his face. 

"Whatever weirdo, don't sweat it," Rick's smirk only grew more knowing, "L-Later." He lazily waved back and strolled out and onto the street. 

 

After that day, Rick came back everyday at a little past two in the afternoon for a cup of the blandest, hottest coffee Morty could make. He quickly realized Rick always mixed it with gulps of a flask he kept in his pocket, but he wasn't really disruptive or belligerent. 

No, he was just teasing and flirty. 

He'd say between sips of coffee and flask shots "you know, M–Morty, you're too cute to be hidden behind a counter"

And the quieter "I wonder how you got so good at grinding. Seriously, fucking coffee is smooth as silk. Got good hands, you know, y-y-you really know your way around, babe–this baby." 

It flustered Morty to no end and so he decided he needed to get some revenge. And this is how Morty wound up the courage to start taking his break in the afternoons with Rick. 

He wasn't really sure where he was going with his plan or what he was going to do but he knew he had to do something to throw that son of a bitch Rick off his game. Irritatingly enough, Rick didn't seem surprised. He simply watched Morty sit across from him and hid his smirk behind the coffee cup. 

"So, M–Morty, why the hell you working at some boring ass place like this instead of enjoying your summer, making out or smoking or something?" 

Morty fiddled with his fingers, unable to maintain eye contact, "W–Well my dad says I need to l-l-learn a work ethic o-or something like that." 

Rick grunted, "Sounds like a piece of work." 

Morty giggled a bit, "Yeah, k-kinda. He doesn't have a job himself." 

Rick laughed and Morty found himself wanting to hear that deep, spine tingling sound again. Rick picked up his coffee cup and waved it at Morty. 

"Want some?"

"N-No thank you."

"It's goooood."

"I–I know, I made it," Morty smiled, "So I also know it doesn't have any sugar because you're gross." 

Rick shrugged and took the last gulp from the coffee cup. 

"Don't need sugar in my coffee when–URP–when I have something as s-sweet as you around."

Rick stood up and tossed his cup away, but not before giving Morty a deviously subtle kiss. 

"W-What time you get off, b-babe?" 

Morty forgot what numbers and time were. Rick amusedly rolled his eyes and gently patted Morty's cheek. 

"F-Five. I get off at five." He stared up at Rick, face red, plan in shambles. 

Rick nodded, "Can't wait."

Morty watched him leave the store with the same flirting smirk he always seemed to have and Morty found that five o'clock seemed an eternity away.


End file.
